


Not Always The End

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-09
Updated: 2003-11-08
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:01:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7093429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wesley waits for the apocolypse to come to his door. Groo comes instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning of the End

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

Wesley looked between the boards he'd thrown haphazardly over his windows and waited patiently for the world to end. He was trying very hard to remain calm and so   
rather than pace around the room or panic he simply stood at the window, glass of his best wine in one hand, loaded 12 gauge in the other, and waited for the world to end.  
It began about 2 that afternoon. A large earthquake ripped through LA, knocking out power for about an hour. Fortunately there were several influential businesses on his block and so his lights were on quicker than most in LA. He'd turned on the television and an anchorwoman with trembling red lips said that the earthquake had originated in Sunnydale.

The echoes of the earthquake had knocked out power, set off car alarms and caused a small crack in his wall- and that was in Los Angeles. Sunnydale must be off the map. He watched the news for the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening. Tremors came and went occasionally, along with two more earthquakes. Reports of 'animal attacks' began filtering in. 'Large bears' and 'animals of unknown species' were attacking in LA and all over the country.

And Wesley knew. He'd read hundreds of theories about the end of the world. The earthquakes, the full-scale demon uprising... he knew the signs of a hellmouth opening.

There was a knock on the door and Wesley raised the gun in the direction of the sound. "I'd advise you not to enter," he called. "I'm well armed and more than a little annoyed."

"Please do not shoot," came the immediate response. "I am the Groosalugg and I've come to enlist your aid."

Wesley set his glass on the windowsill and, keeping the gun raised, made his way to the door. Earthquakes had knocked out the electricity long ago so there was no use in looking out the peephole to confirm Groo's words but he did so anyway and was only met with inky blackness. He was tempted not to open the door at all. There were a hundred different   
reasons why it would be much safer to tell him to go away or- to be completely sure- just shoot straight through the door at chest or belly level.

Instead, he opened the door wide enough to allow one broad shouldered dimension hopping   
human through the door.

As soon as Groo was inside Wesley slammed the door shut and relocked all the locks. The Englishman stood silently as Groo caught his breath. It was   
there in the sparse candlelight that Wesley saw the battered condition his new guest was in. Groo's shirt was hanging on by threads and the very visible chest and back underneath   
was bruised and there were faint scratches down his arms.

Leaning his gun against his shoulder Wesley finally spoke. "What's going on, Groo?"

"We have created a stronghold at the hotel. Gunn went out to find his 'crew', and after Angel returned with Anne and several young people my princess sent me to find you and bring you back. You'll be safe there."

Had the world not been ending; had Wesley not been alone in a vulnerable apartment; had the sounds of demons not been getting closer; had he not been low on ammunition;   
had any of these not been, Wesley would have said no. Out of sheer stubborn pride and bitter hatred he would have sent Groo back to the Hyperion. However as it stood all of the above were true to a dangerous extent.

"Let me get my things," he said after a short pause. He walked into his bedroom and   
changed into a pair of dark, heavy jeans, a white t-shirt, flannel button down shirt and the heavy workman's shoes he used to wear when he would fight demons.

He reached in the hall closet and grabbed the last of the shells for his gun and an oversized shirt Gunn had left behind ages ago. He tossed the latter to Groo. "You'll need to put this on. That shirt won't protect you from much of anything."

Groo nodded in agreement and rather than rip the shirt the rest of the way off he slowly unbuttoned each button and pulled Gunn's shirt over his head. Where it had been loose on Gunn it fit Groo well and Wesley was grateful that the one dark shirt Gunn owned he'd chosen to leave at Wesley's.

He pulled two long-handled axes off the wall and handed them to Groo. "I'm nearly out of bullets so I'll need you to hold one of these for me."

Groo took one in each hand, testing the weight. "These are good weapons."

"Thanks, are you ready?"

Groo took a deep breath to steady himself and nodded.


	2. Taking Stock

The streets of LA were in turmoil, the dregs of the earth (both demon and human) ran about like maggots on rotting flesh, consuming and destroying everything in their path.

It was full-scale demon vs. human war. Wesley couldn't say he was surprised of course; demons had always been resentful of humans and the fact that demons had to stay underground and hidden. Still, it was more than a little strange that demons all around the country had chosen the same moment to attack. He'd heard no rumors of rising leaders in the demon world; then again, it had been quite a while since he'd stopped listening.

They picked their way carefully through the streets, taking deserted alleyways instead of rioting streets. It was now the dark and dimly lit areas that were a human's friend.

Less than halfway to the Hyperion a large scaled Renthar demon decided two well armed men were a better meal than the elderly woman he'd pulled out of the window of her home. He stalked to them and with a growl swiped a clawed hand at Wesley's head. He ducked down and backwards, falling on his back. Groo lunged forward, axe swinging.

"Groo, no," Wesley shouted over the Renthar's earsplitting cry.

Groo turned to see Wesley on his back, gun raised at eye level. In the instant that Groo stepped back Wesley pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced the soft underside of the Renthar's chin, shattering the face and leaving a black-blooded mess all over the sidewalk and Groo's upper body.

Grinning, Groo offered Wesley hand. "That was excellent shooting."

Wesley accepted the help up. "Your axe would have done little good. Their hide is as tough as anything forged. Their only weakness is the soft spot under their chin and under their arms."

Groo nodded. "I will not forget."

***

Two hours, five earthquakes, fifteen demons and eighteen bullets later they were nearly there. The sun was just beginning to come up over the horizon, showing off the destruction with a million kilowatt spotlight. Buildings in this part of town were either collapsed, on fire or so badly damaged they'd have to be knocked down. Bodies of humans and demons littered the street like morbid garbage. If the sight of it all didn't bring tears to your eyes the smell certainly would.

"I do not understand why this happened," said Groo quietly, stepping over a thin demon arm.

"I don't either. War of this scale... it has to have an instigator, a leader. This isn't a random attack that got out of hand."

It wasn't an answer but Groo seemed satisfied anyway. "We're nearly at the Hyperion. Perhaps when we get there, some-" Groo stopped short. Wesley had been checking behind them for demons and had nearly run into him.

They'd just come around the corner and Wesley followed Groo's line of sight down the road to where the Hyperion stood.

Used to stand.

All that was left was a large pile of concrete, plaster and thick bars of steel twisting out at odd angles.

With a whisper of "No." Groo took off at a marathon run. Wesley ran after him, trying to decide whether or not calling to him would make Groo stop or attract unwanted demon attention.

When Groo reached the hotel he tried to climb through the piles of concrete and steel, fumbling at holes he couldn't fit into that lead to dead ends, trying to push tons of rubble out of the way. When that didn't work he knelt down, calling to his princess over and over again, begging her to answer.

Wesley came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder, letting him cry in peace. Finally, when the sobs died down and Groo was no longer muttering Cordelia's name, Wesley knelt beside him. "I realize this isn't something you want to hear right now but Cordelia's dead. I need you to be strong and accept that quickly because we've got to get out of here soon. The daylight will only keep the vampires away and just because there's no demons at the moment, doesn't mean others won't appear."

For a long time Groo said nothing. Wesley could feel the muscles in his legs start to quiver from the strain of staying in one position but he didn't move. He waited with his hand on Groo's shoulder for nearly twenty minutes as Groo sat in silence.

Finally he felt Groo take a deep breath. "I believe I am ready to fight again. But I will not give up hope. Perhaps they got out in time."

Wesley nodded, hoping the same. He opened his gun and put the last two bullets inside. "We should go. Being out in the open like this isn't safe."

Groo hesitated. "I would very much like to wait. Only for a moment," he threw in quickly. "What if Gunn should return?"

Wesley thought about it. The need to keep moving was strong but, really, where did they have to go? "We'll stay till daybreak tomorrow. We have Angel to thank for this area being pretty much demon free and so we might as well take advantage of it. We should stock up on food at least."

There was a convenience store just down the street, and since it was still in visual range of the Hyperion Wesley left Groo behind and went to see what was salvageable.

The store was dark even with the morning sun shining in. After a quick walk through Wesley found it to be empty of danger and in no immediate threat of falling down. In the manager's office under a small scattering of papers and bits of sheetrock there was a duffel bag containing sweatpants, sneakers, socks and a Walkman. Whoever it was would not be going to the gym anytime soon so Wesley emptied its contents and filled it with sandwiches and Gatorade from the refrigerators, every canned item and every bit of first aid supplies he could find. On his way out the door he stepped behind the counter and there in easy grabbing distance from the cash register was a sawed off shotgun. Not exactly legal but he didn't figure he'd be arrested for carrying it around.

He grabbed the gun and was pleased to see a large box of ammunition behind it. In LA shopkeepers were prepared.

He brought the bag back to Groo and they ate in silence. Wesley had been worried that the sandwiches would be inedible but apparently the power had not been out long enough for them to spoil.

They sat there for the rest of the day, taking turns defending their territory. Wesley found that the higher the stack of dead demons got around their feet the less they were bothered.

"Wesley," said Groo looking out at the sun.

Turning his head Wesley looked at Groo. He was struck suddenly at just how strange life in LA must be to him. To look in the sky and see one sun. To walk in this concrete jungle and have cars flash past at fifty miles an hour. He'd been uncomfortable when Groo first came into the Hyperion; like Fred, it was one more reminder of Pylea and how wrong things had been ever since, but he was pleased to find that he no longer thought poorly of Groo. Doing battle with a man changes your views of him, for better or worse. "Yes?" he asked finally.

"When it's time for us to go... where are we going?"

Wesley sighed. He'd been wondering the same thing for a while. The side of him concerned with doing right wanted to go to Sunnydale. The danger had started in Sunnydale and that's where it must be stopped. But the coward in him wanted to go north. Rationally pointing out that if the earthquakes and demon uprisings had gone on this long Buffy, Giles and the rest were surely dead and there was nothing a thrice outcast Englishman and an over optimistic Groosalugg from a Bronze-Age dimension could do about it.

"The danger is in Sunnydale. I go to Sunnydale."

Groo nodded. "And I will go with you. My princess' last wish was for me to find you- which I've done- and bring you back here- which I've also done- and keep you safe. I cannot keep you safe if I am not at your side."

Grateful for the company, Wesley didn't argue. "There are books I may need. We'll have to stop by my apartment first."

Faintly in the distance at the left end of the street he saw a truck approaching. A large extended-cab Dodge RAM barreled down Wilshire Blvd. running over anything in its path. Demons driving cars, Wesley thought to himself. It just seemed wrong. And the fact that they chose a truck over a tiny sports car was down right unCalifornian.

The truck flew past them. The right end of the street had limited visibility and so all they heard was a squeal of brakes as the truck stopped. Seconds later it came into view.

Groo nudged Wesley in the arm. "I believe it is your turn."

Too tired to worry about conserving bullets Wesley stood and chambered a round into the barrel, bringing it up to eyelevel. The truck backed up parallel to the Hyperion and stopped. Unable to see inside, Wesley held off on putting a round in the general direction of the driver's seat. The driver's door opened and a girl in bright orange jumped out of the truck and raised her hands.

"Don't shoot. It's me, Faith."


	3. Faith's Story

For Faith, the earthquake couldn't have come at a better time.

Completely unwillingly she had become the prison's Holy Grail. //Beat up Faith,// the stronger inmates whispered to the fish. //Beat up Faith and you'll be a legend. Beat up Faith and we won't kill you.// And so they tried. Some were stronger, some were more skilled, and some were so pathetic she didn't know whether to laugh or pity them.

It was a scorcher of a day. The kind that made the guards want to bring everyone outside to sweat out their pent up anger or die of sunstroke- whichever came second. Faith had been lying on a bench trying to remain perfectly still so that she could sweat as little as possible. 

The sun shining on her face was interrupted by a shadow. She opened her eyes in a squint, hoping it was just a cloud. It wasn't. A girl, no more than seventeen stood over her.

"You Faith?" her words were little more than a grunt.

"Yeah," said Faith closing her eyes again.

"You're in my seat," the girl grunted.

"No, I'm really not."

"Move before I make you move."

Faith opened her eyes all the way and looked at the girl. "Don't try it," she warned. "I'm too fucking hot to be patient with you."

The girl reached a hand down and grabbed the front of Faith's jumper and tried to pull her up. The girl was a good fifty pounds heavier than Faith but when she pulled Faith didn't move. Reaching a hand up Faith swatted away the arm before rising to her feet. Great, she thought. Another one. There goes my time off for good behavior.

There was a sound, like thunder, and it took Faith a few seconds to realize the earth was shaking and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Her first Californian earthquake. She always wondered what it would be like and now that it was happening she couldn't really say she liked it much. She wasn't too fond of physical things that were out of her control and the feeling that she was purposely being knocked off her feet was pissing her off.

The shaking finally stopped and she looked around with a smug smile as she noticed she was the only one still standing. The guards hurried to their feet and ordered everyone to stay outside. Like there was anywhere else to go.

There were several aftershocks, that Faith thought felt just like earthquakes and finally a guard came outside and said they were going to be out there till dinnertime.

Great.

An hour later there were faint shouts and muffled screams coming from inside the building. The women rose to their feet waiting for whatever came out to the grounds where they were. Two minutes later there were gunshots; three loud pops close together followed by silence.

Faith had been sitting against the wall next to the door and at the sounds she stood on tiptoes and looked inside the small window of the door. 

Demons. Everywhere she looked demons were crawling around the prison. Hanging from bars in the ceiling, feeding off an inmate or a guard, and tearing the place apart. She stepped away from the door and the women looked at her expectantly.

"Bad guys," she said to the expectant crowd that had gathered around the door. "And not the fun kind. The kind that want to kill us." She strode over to the tall fence. It was not less than ten feet with an extra two feet of barbwire across the top. But the top was not Faith's target. She grabbed the fence with both hands and pried the wires into a large hole. "I'm going to stay and have some fun. Everyone else should probably go."

There were the inevitable disagreements in the group and Faith eventually had to sit and wait as the all filed past the window to get a look at what was inside. Once they'd looked inside there was no arguing, there wasn't even half hearted offers to stay and help. They all went through the hole Faith had made and ran off to parts unknown.

From her limited view of the prison she'd seen about 15 demons ranging in size and height and weight. She could take them all of course and it'd be a great way to release everything she'd been holding back for the past two years.

She lunged at the locked door, breaking it down with a kick. The sun was setting but the new source of light that came into the prison, however dim it was, attracted attention immediately. A blue-scaled demon stopped ripping the fingers off a guard and without missing a beat broke ou in a run in her direction. She was still at the door and when she saw him coming at her she stepped sideways and let him run outside where their fight would attract less attention and would also give her more room to throw him around.

The demon stayed low on all fours and made a half-hearted swipe at her stomach. She kicked out, catching him on the jaw and smiled at the familiar 'snap' of a jaw breaking. "Huh," she said mostly to herself. "It's just like riding a bicycle." Stepping forward she gave it a hard punch in the eye and as it stumbled from the blow she grabbed it's head with both hands and twisted with all her might. It was all 'snap' 'crunch' 'snap' and 'pop' and the demon went limp in her hands. Dropping it to the ground she turned to go back into the prison when she stopped.

Faint but quickly growing there was the feeling that she was walking in slow motion and there was a terrible feeling of saltwater in her throat and nose, and her ears were ringing to a high pitched tune all their own. It was over in a second and she was no worse for wear but she knew what it was.

It had only happened twice before and the first time it had happened, next day a woman with an English accent came to the apartment she and her mother had been staying at and told her that she was the chosen one. That she must stand alone against the vampires. She was a slayer. The second time had been less than a year ago. Two days later Angel came by and told her Buffy was dead.

And now Buffy was dead again. That girl had more lives... But the demon attack and Buffy's death at nearly the same time couldn't be a coincidence. Something was wrong in that end-of-the-word type of way.

Suddenly fighting demons didn't sound fun anymore. She wanted to get out of there and stop the world from ending. Sitting in jail didn't do much to make up for all the shit she'd done but averting the apocalypse... that might just help.


	4. Shopping!

Wesley stared at Faith in disbelief. Unable to form words, he decided action was better so he lowered the gun and stepped down from his spot in the wreckage of the Hyperion. Groo rose and followed. When he reached the street he still had not thought of anything to say. 

He didn't need to.

Faith crashed into him with an embrace so tight he wondered if she remembered their estrangement. "Oh my god," she fairly shouted in his ear. Before he could decide whether to push her away or return the hug she pulled away with a sheepish grin. "Sorry," she said sounding only mildly ashamed. "I just- fuck. When I saw the Hyperion from down the street I thought you were all dead and then when I passed by..."

It took Wesley a few moments but he eventually returned her grin with a ghost of a smile. She saw his hesitation and shadows formed in her eyes. "Look, Wes, I-"

Wesley cut her off with an emphatic shake of his head. "No. I don't think anything you can say to apologize would be enough right now." His words sounded cruel even to him and he paused a moment, trying to think of a way to make her feel better and yet still be honest. "Perhaps later," he said sincerely.

She nodded, understanding. He wasn't the only one who still had a long way to go before everything would feel ok.

Groo glanced from Wesley to Faith and back again. "I am the Groosalugg," he said to Faith with a child's smile.

Faith looked at him as if for the first time. "Faith," she said, sticking out her hand. He shook her hand, his large fingers wrapping around hers.

"You are the Faith Angel visits?"

"Yeah," she said warily, wondering just what had been said about her.

"It is very good to meet you."

She relaxed visibly. "You too. Um, who the hell are you?"

The look on the Groosalugg's face said that he could not answer so Wesley spoke for him. "Groo is Cordelia's... friend..."

Turning her attention back to Wesley she looked around. "Hey, yeah, where *is* Angel and Cordy? Why are you two just standing around here?"

Wesley looked back at her.

"Oh," she said quietly, interpreting his look. Their eyes met and for a brief moment she looked... vulnerable. With a cry of anger she slammed her fist into a nearby block of concrete, splitting it down the center and their moment passed.

She took a deep breath, shaking her fist, willing the pain to go away. "Buffy's dead too. I felt it." She looked at the ground and kicked at a piece of glass. "I felt it the first time, when Kendra died. I just didn't know what it was. I knew this time." She looked at Wesley determinedly. "I have to go to Sunnydale. I knew Angel would want to help- if he wasn't there already, so I came here first."

"And the truck?" asked Wesley looking over at the hulking monstrosity.

"I didn't figure anyone would mind if I borrowed it." She wiped a grimy hand on her jumper and pointed to the duffel bag. "Tell me there's food in there, I'm starved."

Wesley reached in the bag and pulled out the last two sandwiches along with a Lemon-Lime Gatorade and handed them to Faith.

"Ok," she said after her first bite. "I've told you mine, now you tell me yours."

With a long hesitation Wesley told her the story of Angel's trip to the dark side; Pylea; Fred, Lorne, and Groo; Darla's pregnancy; Connor; the prophesy; and Wesley's kidnapping attempt. All spoken very slowly and with as little emotion as possible. He was sure she knew bits and pieces of it but he told her everything just in case.

"Wow," said Faith when he'd finished. "I missed a lot."

Wesley nodded silently.

They sat in silence for a while, watching the sunset; wrapped in thoughts they couldn't share. Finally Wesley turned to Groo. "I don't think anyone's coming," he said quietly.

Groo didn't say anything for a very long time but finally he nodded. "Yes, I believe you are right."

"I know I said we'd wait until morning but I need to stop by my apartment and I think every second we delay getting to Sunnydale..." he was uncertain how to finish the sentence. He didn't want to start the pretence of false hope that they would be successful.

Faith nodded in agreement. "The roads are hard to get through even with the truck. It'll take us all night to get to Sunnydale if we leave now. Plus, you gotta figure the mess will get worse the closer we get."

Groo nodded "Very well."

It was still several minutes before they moved but finally with a sigh, Wesley stood and offered Groo and Faith a hand up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Faith hesitate but with a shake of her head she accepted his hand. He pulled her up and for an instant they were nearly nose to nose. Faith pulled her hand away as Wesley turned and helped Groo up.

Grabbing the duffel bag Wesley checked supplies. "We'll need to stop by a store and get food. We may run into people and I doubt they're going to be full and in top condition."

"Good point," said Faith, tossing him the keys.

Surprised at her move, Wesley almost didn't catch them. "Um, thank you."

Faith just shrugged.

The three piled into the front seat of the truck, Wesley stowed the bag in the back seat, unwilling to put it in the bed of the truck and risk it being lost in an attack.

"Shout when you see anything we need to stop for," said Wesley as he started the truck.

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

They drove painfully slow in Faith's opinion. She seriously considered telling Wesley to pull over so she could drive but she knew giving Wes the keys was more than just trusting him to drive, it was a show of trust and that was important so she kept her mouth shut.

Two minutes later she sat up straight. "Pull over, Wes."

He did so without question. When the truck had come to a stop Faith gestured to a store on the left. "We can go in there and get flashlights and you two can do some quick shopping for food and stuff and I'll be across the street getting clothes that *aren't* orange."

Wesley nodded in agreement and the three stepped out of the truck. Groo offered Faith a hand. "My, aren't we chivalrous," she murmured and hopped out, immediately on alert for demons.

They walked into the store and Faith grabbed a large high-powered flashlight and shoved in a handful of 'D' batteries. Clicking it on she made her way across the street to a small men's clothing shop.

Wesley watched the flashlight bob through the night before finally disappearing behind the broken door of the shop. "Keep your ears open for sounds of a fight," he said loading batteries into another flashlight and handing it to Groo.

"Is it wise to send Faith out by herself? Will she not get injured?"

For an instant Wesley's face was unrecognizable to Groo and he wondered if he'd said something wrong. "Faith can handle her self," Wesley said at last. "She's stronger than the two of us combined." He paused a moment and looked out into the darkness Faith had disappeared into. And his next words were almost a whisper to himself. "It's impossible to tell but something you should never forget." Wesley shook himself hard and shifted the bag on his shoulder. "Come on Groo, time to shop."


	5. Resolving the Unresolvable

Faith looked around the small shop. Men's casual wear at less-than-casual prices. $100 slacks lie on the floor in heaps, designer silk shirts were grimy with misshapen demon footprints and paw prints and in some cases, tail prints.  
She searched through the bottom of piles for the cleaner clothes and then rummaged through them for a pair of pants nearing her waist and leg size, a white undershirt and an over shirt that could stand up to a demon fight better than the silk ones on the floor. Throwing the clothes on she grabbed a pair of socks off the counter and walked back into the storage room for a pair of hiking boots in her size.

Kicking around boxes in the mostly dark looking for a certain size boot was time consuming work but Faith suffered through it with only a few swears and more than a few boxes thrown.

Her biggest victory was a pair of thick, heavy Hilfiger boots only half a size too large if her men's to women's conversion rate was accurate. Sitting on a nearby stool, she jerked them out of the box, scattering the bits of cardboard and tissue paper on the floor and got to work lacing them and putting them on.

Not counting her truck stealing time, this was her first real moment alone with her thoughts. Her brain was finally able to catch up with the rest of her, to take in everything Wesley had told her.

When she'd first seen him and the scar on his neck she'd thought it was the one she'd put there. She knew from years experience that the mark was too fresh but the gut wrenching shame hadn't believed her. And he'd changed so much. What had done that? Time? People? Faith herself?

She shook her head, trying to get the bitter look that now lived in Wesley's eyes out of her mind. It wasn't me, she told herself. It wasn't me. She tried to think of something more positive. In prison, when she wanted to feel hopeful she thought of Angel; of his visits and his all-to-familiar struggle for redemption. But that was no longer something she could hold onto. Angel was dead and his redemption was a moot point now. Fucking powers. Fucking, fucking powers.

Faith was jerked out of her building rage by a loud creaking sound. She grabbed her flashlight and angled it upwards just in time to see a nearby shelf of shoes come crashing down on her. The impact threw her off the stool and onto the floor. Her flashlight rolled across the floor and went out, leaving her to fight in the dark.

She was on her stomach and tried to jump to her feet but was blocked by the shelf now resting against the wall trapping her under it. Flipping to her back she raised her feet against the shelf and kicked out hard. The shelf flew through the air, smacking the far wall.

Before she could get to her feet something heavy and human feeling jumped on top of her. There was a snarl in her ear and she felt it try to snap its teeth at her neck. Vampire. She grabbed blindly for his face and before she realized it sharp teeth met soft fingers. Wasting no time the vampire sank in. With a howl she moved the other hand up and grabbed his hair, snapping his head back. His mouth opened and she could feel the growl that came from his throat vibrate her whole body.

She punched him once in the nose as hard as she could with her injured hand and she felt the spray of blood on her face as the vampire rolled off of her, yelling in pain. Kicking a foot out blindly she sprang to her feet and stumbled in the direction of the broken shelves. Dropping to her knees she groped around for a piece of shelf.

But the vampire was faster and it tackled her from behind just as she wrapped her fingers around a piece of wood. The vampire was on her back, face pressed close to her neck, hands clenched tight around her arms when a loud gunshot rang through the small room. Suddenly the weight of the vampire lessened and went away all together, leaving only a trace of grit in her hair.

She got to her feet, mildly embarrassed that she had to be rescued from one little vampire. "That could have been *my* head," she said, shaking the dust out of her hair.

"Good thing I'm a good shot," said Wesley. He shined a flashlight just below her face. "Is the blood on your face yours or his?"

"His. This," she raised her hand into the light. "Is mine but it's surface and it'll heal."

Walking toward her Wesley frowned down at the bloody mess on her hand. "I'm sure it will but let's hurry it along."

Faith and Wesley sat silently as Groo played nursemaid. "These are not bad cuts," he said with a smile. "But I'm sure it is not very pleasant."

Faith shrugged silently. She was irritated suddenly at Wesley and Groo; at the way they were treating her. At Wesley for holding her at arms length and his stony silence (she wasn't one for big chats but *anything* would be better than this) and Groo for, well, being Groo. He kept acting as if she was this delicate princess and would fall apart if handled too roughly. She didn't like being handled carefully. She dealt better with brutal honesty and loud harsh words. Prison hadn't made her like that but it defenantly made her appreciate it more.

"There," Groo said finally. "All done." He patted her hand gently and she jerked away from his touch. His friendly smile faltered and for a second she almost felt sorry for him.

"It's fine," she said coldly.

Losing his smile all together, Groo put the supplies back in the bag and zipped it up. If Wesley noticed the tone in her voice or Groo's crushed _expression he didn't show it. Instead he started the truck and pulled away from the curb.

&&&

Wesley took one look at his apartment building and was very grateful that he'd decided to leave with Groo. The building was standing but that was just about the only positive thing. All the windows had been smashed in and much like the streets, the steps leading inside the building were covered in blood and pieces of what they hoped was just soggy trash but knew better.

Wesley pulled onto the sidewalk, narrowly missing a 'No Parking' sign and the three got out of the car on full alert. Wes chambered another round into his new gun and Groo pulled out the axes, preferring to use both at once.

There were only 15 or so demons on the street. Most of them were carrion eaters, demons who waited like vultures until after the fight was over so that they could eat the remains. Most of the really dangerous demons had left the area, having killed and destroyed all they could.

They made their way into the building and walked the long hallway to Wesley's apartment. His door had been kicked and clawed open and a few of his things were thrown about but other than that he'd gotten off lucky. Apparently the demons that had destroyed the building were only interested in eating humans and not stealing from them.

After a quick once through to make sure there was no one inside, Wesley returned to the hallway. "It's clear. Groo, you stand watch out here. Faith, will you come inside with me? I need an extra hand with the books and other things."

"No one will get past me," said Groo solemnly, setting an axe down and taking the flashlight Faith offered him.

With Wesley leading the way, Faith walked into the dark apartment and over to a large bookshelf. "We'll need a bag to hold these," Wesley said almost to himself and he went into another room, reappearing almost an instant later with a small black duffel bag. "This should be sufficient."

Faith held the flashlight over her head, angling the light down so that they could see better and Wesley set about looking through his books for references to the hellmouth. Most of which he'd brought over from England and had read on the plane to Sunnydale.

"Faith?" he said after a while.

She was a little wary of the fact that he'd initiated a conversation but was curious what he'd want to say to her. "Yeah?"

There was a pause as he thought of the words. "I need you to be nicer to Groo," he said at last. "He was more than just close to Cordelia, they were lovers and he's the type of person..." Wesley shook his head. "He means well, is what I'm saying and I think your behavior has hurt his feelings."

She'd already planned on trying to be nicer to him but the fact that Mr. Tight-Lipped-Stony-Face was telling her to play well with others was more than a little funny.

"Yeah," she said finally, making sure to let her anger show. "Sure thing, Wes."

He stopped for a moment. "Is there a problem?"

She blinked once. Confrontational Wesley was not something she was used to. "Yeah, actually there is. You want me to be all sweetness and light to Sir Needs-a-Brain out there but you can't even give me so much as a 'hey Faith, good kill.' or 'so Faith, orange is really your color'? And I'm not saying you don't have your reasons. What I did to you... Well it was just fucked up and you're right, I'll never be able to apologize enough but I'm *trying* ok?" The flashlight began to wobble in her hand as she clenched it too tightly and she loosened her grip slightly to steady it.

He looked at her for a long moment, watching the shadows hug the hollows of her cheekbones. "I don't know how I feel about you being here. When Angel took you in after what you'd done to me I was furious but I accepted his decision because he was my boss and because he *needed* for you to find redemption. If you could he could, I suppose... But I no longer take my orders from Angel. I haven't for quite a while and this short period of time I'm allotted to get used to having you around isn't enough. I can't push all my thoughts and feelings about your appearance into one tightly packed reaction. Am I upset that you're out of prison? Yes. Am I grateful you're coming with us to Sunnydale? Yes. Do I hate you the way I once did? No. Do I trust you?-"

"I don't think I want to hear the answer to that one," Faith said darkly.

"I want you to hear it. When it comes to watching my back and keeping me alive, I trust you. With everything else, not so much. Part of that is because of these last few months. There isn't anyone I can think of that I'd trust completely." He shoved a thin book inside his duffel bag absentmindedly and looked back at Faith. "And honestly," he added almost as an afterthought. "What you did didn't hurt near as much as what Gunn and Cordelia did so there's hope for us yet."

Faith wasn't sure what to say after his speech but she knew she had to say something. "Look, I can't wave a magic wand and make all your anger or bitterness or whatever go away but I can offer some advice that you can take or not take: I've been there. I've had those things eating me from the insides out before and they don't go away with time like you think they do. With time they get worse because you sit and you think about all the wrongs done you and all the people who have hurt you and if you sit for *too* long alone with your thoughts it will eat at you until there's no more *you* left. Just a ball of hate and bitterness and the only way to feel better is to make others hurt the way you do. It's not a fun existence, trust me." Faith stopped suddenly, embarassed at the feriosity in her voice. "I think our hour's up doc. What do you say we get to Sunnydale now?"

Wesley looked down at the book he was holding and tossed it to the ground. "Alright. Let's get out of here."

Faith let him lead and on her way out she glanced at the book Wesley had tossed aside. 

//The Divine Comedy: Inferno// by Dante Allegherti

&&&

They saw no humans on their way to Sunnydale. Groo didn't figure they would but he couldn't help hoping. He had been quieter than usual since Faith arrived. He'd sensed the tension in the air between Wesley and Faith and knew that his observations and comments would do no good. Fortunately the mood had changed since their talk in Wesley's apartment. Groo had heard their voices from his station in the hallway but knew it was impolite to snoop and so he resolutely kept his ears open for dangerous noises instead of listening to their conversation.

Groo took the positive change in mood as a good sign and so he began talking again; asking questions and making observations. Sometimes even slyly throwing in a joke. He was glad to see they could still laugh.

Squinting against the sun Groo leaned forward in the truck suddenly. "What is wrong with this place? Nowhere on my world does life just cease to be like this. Was this done by some sort of fire breathing demon?"

Faith looked up from the radio and out the window. "No, that's the desert. It only looks dead. There are all kinds of animals and plants and stuff that thrive out there."

Groo nodded looking at something up ahead. "I see what you mean."

Far in front of them, looking almost like a mirage were two figures. Even from their distance it was obviously two humans. Possibly female.

Wesley had seen it too and slowed down. They squinted against the sun and it wasn't until they were almost on top of them that Faith called out, "Hey! It's Anya and Tara!"

Wesley shaded his eyes to get a better view. "I don't know who Tara is but that *is* Anya."

Faith couldn't help but grin. "I don't believe it. I just don't believe it."


End file.
